Casey versus The Future
by blc
Summary: Formerly titled "Casey v. Orion" Casey's thoughts on events in S2 from "Lethal Weapon" onward, including "Chuck v. The Ring." T-rated for language. Three-shot. Standard disclaimers, Chuck not mine, content and dialogue are.
1. Chapter 1

A/N:

This is my first Chuck fanfiction. I've been writing on the Bones board for a while, but recently I started watching Chuck and have become a fan. I may not have the characters' voices right yet, so all constructive criticisms are welcome! Please note that there are spoilers for Chuck versus The Lethal Weapon.

* * *

**Casey versus Orion**

He's standing there, this punk kid who's been maybe the biggest pain in my ass in my entire professional life. Except-- at some point in working with the kid, my professional life's become my personal one. As if I didn't already know that when I couldn't take him out.

"This guy created the Intersect? ... That means he might know how to get it out of my head."

Beckman answers him with a "We don't know, Chuck. Perhaps." and damn, even she looks sympathetic.

"We've got to find him. We've got to find this guy before Fulcrum does." He's amped up instantly, not panicked, but close—it's like he's seeing his life flash before his eyes if Fulcrum gets Busgang before we do. And yet there's something else in there, too. Purpose.

It _is_ his life if they get Perseus before we do, I realize. His real life depends on getting this thing out of his head.

"What about that name, Orion," he asks later, after Busgang is dead. "Busgang said that maybe Orion could get the Intersect out of my head."

Beckman tells him there aren't any leads, and the kid's jaw clenches. But ... it's not just disappointment this time. He's starting to get angry. And yet he mans up enough to get up and shake Barker's hand like Barker didn't just hone in on Walker and get her all goo-goo eyed and confused. I hate how adaptable he is, how he rolls with every single punch his shitty life keeps throwing at him, so when Barker says he's a "special agent," I grunt "special" as if he's on the CIA Short Bus, when he's anything but.

Barker wishes him luck with getting rid of the Intersect, and Chuck just says calmly, "Thanks, but I'm beginning to think that's never going to happen."

Later, though, he's sitting out in the courtyard talking with Walker (got to talk to him about how sound carries out there some other time) and he tells her "Just so you know, I am going to get this thing out of my head, one day. I will. And when I do, I'm going to go on to live the life that I want, with the girl that I love, because I'm not going to let this thing rob me of that." His tone is so calm, so matter-of-fact, and it's there again, except stronger this time, that thing flickering under that initial excitement over who Perseus was back in the Castle. Purpose.

Through it all, this kid has been loyal to his friends and family, and loves them with everything in him. He's been loyal even to me when I'm a jackass on purpose. He's shoved his way into me and my life just as much as Larkin shoved that thing into his head and Walker and I shoved our way into his life. He's badgered me, joked around with me when I've been in no mood, picked at me about my feelings, for Christ's sake, when lesser men than him would fear for their lives. But he doesn't-- or he does, but goes ahead anyway.

I've thought in the past that he was a wimp. But he's not-- just different. He's brave enough to try to make this version of his life as normal as possible, to make me and Walker as much a part of those friends and family he's so loyal to. But he wants out. Desperately. And he wants Walker, too.

I've always looked forward to the next assignment, wondered what the future would hold. With the exception of Ilsa, I've never really regretted what happened during a job-- it was always just doing what was required. But this Team Bartowski thing is no longer a job. And I wonder-- what's going to happen to _me_ if he finds Orion and gets that thing out of his head? Where do I fit when he's no longer the Intersect?

This new purpose of his-- I've got to do what I can to help him, help him get back the messed-up but still normal life he had before this all started. I never thought I really wanted a normal life, but as I hear him make that promise to Walker, all I can think is _this is the most normal my life has ever been. And I don't want it to change._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **_

_**I'd intended this story to be just a one-shot, but the segue between Chuck v. The Lethal Weapon and the look on Casey's face when he's talking with the General at the end of Chuck v. The Predator? I had to add at least this chapter.**_

* * *

I see the General off, promise she'll have all my info in the morning, and watch on the screen as Bartowski flips through his comic. _Ex __Machina_. Hah. I saw what happened right before Walker came into the kid's room, while the General's back was turned to the TV screens and she's quizzing me on whether Walker's in the game or not. The General's got to learn not to turn her back on Bartowski, not just Walker and me. And I watch, too, then replay how Walker tries to assure Bartowski of the very opposite of what she'd told Beckman not three hours ago. No wonder the kid shifts those white cards, whatever they are, a bit more behind him, then lies to Walker as straightfaced as anyone I've ever seen. "Become a spy," Beckman says. She has no idea.

_Ex __Machina_. Hah. Like in Greek Tragedy, when the god in the machine emerges to drive the plot forward or change the direction of action. And the second meaning, or maybe the first for Bartowski, the character in his comic book series who's got a machine brain dumped into him and has both superhuman powers and responsibilities as a result. The kid honestly thinks I don't look this shit up while I'm watching and I've got nothing else to do all night when Walker's not over? I don't think so. He's smarter than I give him credit aloud for. I know he knows that I'm watching, too. So who's the unidentified _Deus_ in the _Ex __Machina_ here? Orion? Chuck? Me? Someone else we haven't met yet? It's not Beckman, that's for sure. Either way, I've got a role to play, so I decide to get started.

* * *

I wasn't sure Walker would pick up on the clue I left her back at the bathroom in the Castle, but she shows up right on time and joins me under the dark, lee side of the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. Nothing like good, old-fashioned ciphers-- a portrait of Reagan on top of a book next to my watch set to this time, because I'll be damned if I'll bring it out here just in case they've found some way to listen in that I'm not yet familiar with.

She sits next to me, barely looking at me as she waits to hear what I have to say.

"You need to get your head on straight, Agent Walker," I say, my voice low. "Beckman's ready to bounce you if you can't keep it together, she told me so after you left. So quit jerking him around, quit jerking yourself around, make up your damned mind one way or the other, and let's get on with the real job, protecting Bartowski in the only way that makes sense."

"You can't be serious," she says, sounding offended. "Chuck's not a spy..."

"Neither were you, once," I say, cutting her off. Hell, neither was I. "Doesn't change the fact that Beckman's right, if the wrong reasons He needs those skills if he's not going to get killed. And face it, Walker. If we ever manage to locate the Fulcrum computer, he's going to need time to figure out how to hack it. If we go down while he's trying to do that, it does him no good if he can't fend them off long enough to unload it out of his head and unload a clip full of bullets into whoever gets in his way."

She jerks at my blunt words, as I intend her to. If we ever find that computer of his, he'll be in and out in less than two minutes, I'd bet my life on it. But I want to buy him time to decide what to do next. Run off with Walker to Idaho? Skip a plane to Morocco? Call Oprah and set up an interview? It'll be up to him, but none of that'll be worth a damn if he gets killed two seconds after he gets it out of his head because he's not trained enough to hear someone sneaking up on him, or steady enough to blow someone's brains out.

"You're going to help?" she asks, her chin all a-tremble.

I can't help it, I'm suddenly pissed. "If you honestly thought that I wouldn't after I delayed taking him out, then you need to straighten your head out even more than I thought. If you require even more food for thought, though, chew on this."

I stare at her hard until I make sure she has my full attention. "I'm sending the General my complete file on you in four hours, along with every damned film. And I haven't kept a full file or an unedited film since the second Intersect computer blew up."

Standing, I look at her. "Get your head on straight, Walker. He already told you what he wants, but if you can't admit to yourself that you want an apple pie life and commit to making that happen, then you're the one who's going to put him in danger. So figure it out, yes or no. He's a bigger boy than you give him credit for. If you say no, well, he's already a professional whether or not you want to admit it."

She stares at me wide-eyed, then says "I'll think about it," as she stands and looks at me evenly.

"You'd better. You get that kid killed, Walker, and you'll wish I killed you straight out of the gate on this mission." To her credit, she doesn't flinch at the promise, just nods. Which is good, since she ought to be making the same threats to me.

* * *

When I get back to my place, he's sitting on my couch and re-reading his comic book.

"_Ex __Machina_, hunh?" I ask, and he tosses it to me

"Hide in plain sight," he replies, watching me as I flip through the pages. These cards are it, I can tell. It's everything. That was Orion, and now he's gone, the original and most powerful _Deus Ex Machina_ of all. All that's left now are these blueprints and plans. And Bartowski. And me.

"Why me?" I find myself asking.

"You don't lie to me," he says evenly. "I think if you're going to kill me some day you'll do it right to my face. Until then, I like to believe that whether or not you like me, you won't lie to me. Unlike Sarah."

He pauses, then looks at me with that purpose I saw back before Barker left. "She lied to me about what the three of you discussed before I went off to meet Orion."

I stifle a jerk of surprise. He hacked our cameras to look at us meeting here? In my living room? Or Orion did? Even if it was Orion, I'm sure Bartowski will figure it out by the end of the week. I'm glad all over again that I said nothing when the General was rounding on Walker, and wonder if Bartowski understands. If you just stand and look stoic, most people take that as a yes, not as a non-answer. And that flat tone in his voice when he says "she lied to me?" Maybe Walker was further away from that apple-pie life than even she thought.

I let go of of this tangential thought, look at him, grunt and hand back the comic book.

"Grunt number three," he says, standing and retrieving the book with a small smile. "'Night, Casey," he says, heading out to my door. "Happy listening."

And then he's gone and I follow to lock up the doors.

Grunt number three-- "Yeah. You can trust me." It's not Klingon like he and Larkin had, but it works all the same.

He'll make a good spy. It's too bad. But whatever gets this thing out of his head-- that's what matters, whether or not Beckman supports it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

**I hadn't intended to continue on with this story after "The Predator," because I couldn't think of a way to float a plausible alternate explanation for Casey's behavior after "The Broken Heart." But "The Ring" was just so fabulous that as Casey said, "Chuck me--" there was suddenly tons of fodder for the rest of Casey's thoughts on the season and that "To Be Continued."**

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Casey versus the Future

This damned room is pure white but for that nerd computer 1.0 in the midst of the room—and Larkin's blood on the floor, the poor bastard. At least he went down fighting. I never want to be in here while this thing is flashing—seeing Chuck flash is more than enough for me, thanks very much. Well, enough except for the part where me and Walker and Chuck are surrounded by five guys with guns all around us—then there's just this life flashing before my eyes thing.

The problem is I've seen my life pass before my eyes so many times that now I'm just on fast-forward. As we stand in this damned Intersect chamber with Larkin dead for the third time all that flashes is the last few unbelievable weeks. Discovering Orion. Losing Orion. Chuck's acquiring the plans for the Intersect. The General's having her own files of Chuck and Walker despite the edited ones I gave her—and boy did she ream me out at the same time she tried to replace Walker. _Of course_ Walker didn't trust me as far as Morgan could throw me.

That pesky little unimportant thing, discovering Chuck's dad, that he's batty, that he's Orion, _and_ that he went MIA because he worked for a batty Fulcrum evil genius. Losing Chuck's dad to said evil genius, then barely getting him back and oh, yeah, that fighter jets and just getting out of there in time thing. Mere details.

And let's see, what else? Walker understandably not believing I'd keep my word and get Chuck out of this in one piece and not ship him off to a bunker. My not believing she'd keep hers, and debating whether or not I actually should send him to the bunker. Poor Chuck completely caught in the middle and not knowing what the hell to do, so no wonder he went with the one of us who came right out and said "_hey, let's go get your dad_."

But all that Team Bartowski distrust stuff all worked itself out with the kid dragging us along behind him, Walker with him and me following them when before this I would have thrown my hands up in the air. Save his dad, and who cares if he gets killed in the process. Of course I lied my ass off to the General, but hey—that's what teamwork's all about, right? Walker could have just shot me—twice, once at the motel and once at my place, but she didn't. Figured I could save her ass since that AWOL shit was kind of my fault in the first place. A little well-placed "_hey, psst, Walker, you bring him back here and we'll hightail it for Ulan Batur_" up in the parking lot might have changed things a bit.

I swear, if it weren't my life I'd swear it was some over-the-top action tv show, complete with thrilling but improbable storylines and lovable characters.

But never mind that, because fast forward even further, and the kid's calling me a friend and meaning it and then calls me back in for help because his fingers _were_ legitimately on fire what with Roark showing up. I _knew_ I should have made them account for his dentals. That's what I get for relying on another service branch-- never do that again if I live through this. I hate goddamned loose ends—but crashing through that skylight was sure as hell fun, and I'd never gotten to shoot up a wedding reception before. That cake shot down easy as pie. Heh. And then the sweet, brave, patriotic bastard blows two years of duty pay on his sister's wedding when it's the government's damned fault it got screwed up in the first place. Note to self—if I make it out of here alive, make sure they bank that pay for him again, I'm a Colonel now, I can probably light a fire under someone's ass.

It's all especially bitter because I hate loose ends that were staring me right in my goddamned face—one of my own men was less loyal to me than Bartowski and Walker and killed his own brothers in arms. He'd have killed me too—or left me there so he could come back and finish the job after dealing with Larkin and Intersect 3.0 if Walker and Chuck hadn't come back to get me—and if Chuck hadn't gone all in after he was already out-- none of us would have blamed him if he'd just stood there and waved as he said "_Good luck storming the Castle_!" There was no way we would have made it in as far as we did up to here without the kid.

And then, life's about over and they're ready to kill us all after the big reveal that there's a whole new villain we've known nothing about and Bartowksi—goddamned brave, stupid Bartowski—flashes. The stupid nerd bastard uploaded version 3.0 into himself when he could have destroyed it, let it all die with Larkin, and now there's five guys with guns all trained on _him_.

If I live to be a hundred, I don't know that I'll ever see such a thing of beauty ever again, even a new rocket launcher or an airstrike gone perfectly. Because whatever the hell Intersect 3.0 is, Bartowski's kicking, punching, striking, ducking and rolling like nothing I've seen short of my sensei. Hell, whatever battle computer he loaded himself up with might even be better than _me_. He takes down five guys with guns when I've seen him punch someone maybe a dozen times max, and it's just _perfect_. Totally perfect-- and that last claw hand and side kick? Poetry in lethal nerd motion.

And then the life that was peskily flashing before my eyes grinds to a halt as Chuck relaxes out of a perfect stance and looks around completely confused. The kid's had the code in his brain rewritten _twice_ in three days and the first thing he says is "Hey guys, I know kung fu."

I wonder what else Bartowski's uploaded in there, if he wants to go to the shooting range, and if he'll smoke a cigar if I give him one. As I watch Chuck process the way things just changed, hell, as _I_ process the way things just changed and sign myself back up to Team Bartowski Full Implementation, all I can think is something I've heard lots of times but never quite grasped-- until now.

This is going to be _Awesome_.

* * *

On old fashioned merry-go-rounds, there were brass rings that the "riders" tried to chase and catch in order to get points and win prizes. The "Ring" here has to be this "bigger-than-Fulcrum" organization, but I just loved the look on his face when Chuck was kung fu fighting, and I felt like he'd finally caught the meaning of Awesome, not just a clue that this Ring group existed.


End file.
